Blue neighborhood
by Mermaidjaid
Summary: for the last three years, Santana has always turned to her best friend, and confided in her for everything. but, will her darkest secrets get in the way of their blooming relationship? Or, will Brittany make a sacrifice for her best friend, and follow her out of the dark? Join brittana on their tear-jerking journey of trauma, adventure, heart-break, sex, and secrets.


Blue neighborhood.

Santana's POV.

I'm staring down at the shade of brown covering the front end of my sneaker, probably from when I kicked the dirt up on my way back from that hell-hole of a town, from church. I can't stop thinking about the argument I got into with my folks, my mom, especially… there's a hollow pit in my stomach, and I'm dreading even stepping foot inside the house, because I already know the kind of shit she'll feed me. I hate church, I hate sitting in a room full of obnoxious, judging assholes, who know nothing about me. Nor do I want to sit there and listen to the crap they preach, in god's name. most of its just bullshit anyway, they turn his word into something else… try to rewrite the gospel and morph it to something that'll come up to par with their ridiculous standards, and religious beliefs. Even my parents try to suck me into their little lies. Why did I have to be born into this family? Why are my parents Christian-freaks?

Well I know my god. And he is nothing like these so-called Christians claim him to be. So _excuseee_ me if I bail during one of your stupid, pointless meet ups, where you all just preach hate. Anyways, from church, straight back to this shit-hole. – Okay, okay… it's not that much of a shit-hole. I mean, yeah, we probably have the nicest house on this street, but, that's just because every other place on this damn block is barely holding itself up. My best friend, Britt, now, that place she's residing in, _that's_ a shithole! Thank god she's nearby, though. I don't know who else I'd run too when I need a break from this place. Don't let looks fool you- it may look all neatly landscaped, and my douche bag-of-a-dad may have fenced this place from the ground up, -keeping out the intruders- But nothing can change what goes on behind those walls. Nothing could make me like it here... if they knew half of what I deal with, if one of my mothers nose-in-the-air group of obnoxious, divorce pending book club members –who, seriously need to find something else better to do with their time- knew anything, they'd see our lives are not so seemingly a fairytale anymore. Never was, never fucking will be. You know what, though? All that drama, all that shit I get put through will always be worth it, because in the end…. I'm never more than a few minutes away from her.

Brittany was always a bright, outspoken, sweet and free spirit. I could swear the girl had no fears; she'd never hesitate to do anything- even if it came with a consequence. Part of anyone would blame her lack of parental guidance for her recklessness. Her parents were hardly ever on good terms, from what I hear. One evening, the pair turned a simple disagreement into a nasty argument, and what turned out to be their final feud. It didn't end pretty- hideous, really. Brittany's father took a kitchen knife straight through his wife's lower abdomen… he left her there, on the porch, until her father found her lying there, just a few hours later. Still, there was no saving Mrs. Pierce. She bled and bled until her whole body went into shock, ending in a tragic death. The worst part is… Brittany was with her grandfather that day. He was returning her from the afternoon they had spent together, a day that was seemingly just like any other day, before she came home to her mother. Lying there… lifeless. And at only ten years old, I could only imagine what that had done to the poor girl. You know? Still yet, I couldn't look at Brittany as some, distraught, brat who had no rules and drank soda for dinner because she didn't have a mother there to tell her she couldn't. No, she was far from that. Brittany's been my best friend for nearly four years, and, I could easily say I knew her better than anyone else. And let me tell you, the girl wasn't perfect. But that's what attracted me towards her even more. She never tried to hide her flaws; instead she wore in out her sleeve like battle wounds that healed themselves. A trophy of her remarkable strength. God, do I admire her. The girl bunked in with her grandfather for a few years, all the way up until the old man suffered a heart attack, and, well, that was the end of the road for him. With no one to watch over Britt, she was forced into foster care. A little over three years later, at the age of thirteen, Brittany was taken under the wing of a foster parents, and was moved across town, to my district, alongside her new step-family, a family friend of theirs, Timmy. Timmy wasn't a bad guy; he was nice if he warmed up to you. When I first met Timmy, he liked me enough to tell me nearly every goddamn joke in the history of jokes. He was a funny guy, mid-thirties with the mind of a drunk fifteen year old. He was alright, though. It was Brittany's foster parent that held a gripe against me. He was a beer binging, TV-watching couch potato. He wasn't like that before, though, Brittany tells me. It wasn't 'til after his wife left him for another guy, that he started slowly losing himself. Slowly not giving a shit anymore, meanwhile Brittany's step-mother would go off, to venture a new life. She loved Brittany, though. Even wanted to take the blonde along, but that was an argument she lost… I hated hearing it, hearing that once again, Brittany would be in another neglectful household. Timmy was the one who worked to pay the bills at that shithole. Timmy repaired the cars, fixed the leaks in the house, and helped take care of Brittany. And strangely enough, No matter what, that couch potato, that damn old man always had a bone to pick with me. Yeah, old man- the guy was old enough to be her grandpa! But, if it wasn't for him and his ex-wife taking Brittany in, I and Brittany's friendship would be non-existent today. Not to mention, if he hadn't of put up a fight to keep Brittany's step-mother from taking her, I would've never met my best friend…

So I have to give him that much credit.

Brittany and I met the same year she moved onto my block. I knew almost instantly that we were going to be close friends… it wasn't 'til after we established a deep connection, something I'd been searching for in everyone, that I begin to open up to the blonde, about lots of things I held captive in my head… still, there are things I've never told any other living soul. Not even her… not because I don't trust her, but, because, to recall those secrets, those dark memories… it'll never be easy for me. One day, I'll work up the courage to tell her. She deserves to know everything, everything that happened before she moved into this place… this blue neighborhood.

My gaze moved from the filth on my shoe, to the soft glimmer beaming from the charm bracelet Brittany had gotten me yesterday, and I let my eyes fixate on it. An early present for our three-year anniversary. What? It's not weird, I mean, we're friends.. That's what friends do, right? Besides, Britt's really all I have. The beautiful aspects of it remind me of her, and it'll be a constant reminder of how lucky of a person I am. It pleases me to know we'll have each other's backs, 'til the end. I chew at my lower lip, reminding myself I still need to get her something in return… I crack a soft smile, knowing how little it takes to please her, how she's always been a grateful person. Still, it needs to be special. She deserves it for putting up with me anyhow.

"That from your boyfriend?"

I sigh internally.

"Mom knows you bailed from church, were you with him?"

I close my eyes; bite my tongue and turn to face the bastard that is my older brother. God, he's like an exact copy of him, his douche-bag dad. I make a displeased face; suddenly I have a bad taste in my mouth.

"Or wait-"

Don't say it, don't you dare fucking go there.

"Were you with that mistake, yeah what's her name- bailey?"

My blood boils; I can feel my throat tightening from the screams I'm suppressing. I clench my fists, and stand, coming onto him on all fours. "Take it back." I warn him, and he just gives me a coy smirk. That fucker, he loves pissing me off, loves it so he can run back to his mama, and cry bloody murder. Murder doesn't sound half-bad right now.

"You know momma doesn't like you hanging around that girl, she's a bad influence."

That's not what I wanted to hear. My eyebrows come to a furrow, my anger only grows. "Take it back, Michael." I demand again.

"You're so screwed, dad comes home soon, and you're so. Screwed." He laughs, that ugly smile pulling at his lips. I let out a frustrated groan, and shove him so hard, that he loses his balance and stumbles back, landing his ass on the pavement. I should feel bad, but I don't. If he wasn't such a jerk all the time, I wouldn't have done it. But he so, so asked for it this time.

"I- my arm, you hurt my arm!" he whines out, in that crybaby voice that makes me want to push him five times harder into the pavement. Pretty childish of him, for an eighteen year old, don't you think? I roll my eyes, grab my bag and head back into that god forbidden house. I can still hear Michael's whines as I walk through the front door, I can also hear the footsteps of clanking house-wife flats, _clank-clank-clanking_ in a hurry, to 'rescue' my poor, endangered brother, and his _wittle owie_. God knows he'd lie there all day if it weren't for mom. Already, I can hear her hollering at me. I'm not paying any mind to what she's saying, but I know I'm in deeper shit than I was, before my brother decided to show up.

I waste zero time making my way upstairs, I slam my bedroom door shut once I enter, slipping out of my jacket and tossing it to the floor. Releasing a soft sigh, I walk over to my window- the only window in my room- sliding my fingers through the cracked space between my curtains. I peek out through the gap, scanning the street, my eyes instantly land on the only view I care about; Brittany's house. God, do I miss her. I haven't seen her since yesterday and I already feel like a lost puppy, waiting on his owner's arrival after a long business trip. I slip my hand into my left pocket, and the second my fingers reach my cell, I hear my door swing open. My breath hitches in my throat when I turn to see him, the face I dread, my father. With one swift kick of his leg, my door slams shut again, harder than it opened.

My fists clench, I know what's coming. Before I can find the words to speak, my throat comes to that familiar, old sting, my ability to breathe becomes strangled , and I am no longer there.

I want to shrink, I want to disappear. I want Brittany.

Suddenly, I am no longer the brave sister who stood up to her big brother. Just a scared, helpless little girl.

Maybe, I always will be…


End file.
